Just Listen in the Library
by HarleyRicardi
Summary: *OneShot* What if Owen had found Annabel in the library the day Emily had spoken to her instead of Clarke? Owen's POV.


It had been a few weeks since I'd last spoken to Annabel, and if I'm being honest, and I always am, it's killing me. Every time I see her it takes all the restraint I have to not go up to her and say something, hell say anything. I was mad, yea, I had every right to be, but being mad doesn't mean I never wanted to talk to her again. I find myself missing our lunchtime debates, I miss her smile and her laugh and the smell of her lavender shampoo. Annabel had been on my mind quite a lot since I had met her, and since our interrupted kiss at my house she had been on my mind every day.

I've continued sitting on the wall, _our_ wall, in hopes that she would give in and come talk to me. Every time I see a flash of blonde hair or any sort of yellow to be honest, I immediately feel my heart rate quicken immediately only to be utterly disappointed. Annabel has never shown herself during lunch, she's basically disappeared. The only time I ever get a glimpse of her is when I watch her rushing to her car, head down, eyes always on the ground, her books always pressed tightly to her chest. I wanted to just grab her by her shoulders and shake her. I wanted to yell "what is wrong with you, please just say something, anything." I wanted to tell her I missed her more than anything though. At first, I tried to keep my music low when my headphones were in, to see if I heard any whispering about Annabel. But all I heard was how yet another one of Sophie's friends had slept with her boyfriend, just like Annabel had the year before. The volume went back up after that.

It was the last day before winter break and I had wandered into the library to check out some new CD's one of the music teachers told me I might like, when I saw her. Annabel in the far corner of the library, sitting alone with a book was sitting on the table, that I could tell she wasn't reading it. The sleeves from her sweatshirt were pulled down to cover her hands and her knees drawn her chest. She looked so small from over here. I leaned against one of the bookshelves, trying my best to stay hidden. When all I really wanted to do was go over there and grab hold of her face and tell her how shitty my life has been without her and hope to hear the same. I don't know how long I was standing there for, just looking at her in a worn-out hoodie, her pulled back into a messy type of bun. Annabel was the only girl I know who could make looking this beautiful look so natural. I watched as she chewed on her bottom lip and fiddled with a loose piece of hair. In that moment I decided to put my anger aside for a few moments just to hear her voice. I decided that it was worth it, holding onto anger never really worked for me. Just as I had worked up the courage to go over there, which sounds stupid because it's Annabel and we're friends and at one point I thought we could be even more which might have been even stupider than needing courage to talk to her, a red headed girl walked over to the table.

I watched as Annabel looked up at her, her face looked surprised and almost sympathetic. I recognized the red head, Emily I think her name was, as the girl that had been following Sophie around since the beginning of the school year. I felt an overwhelming urge to protect Annabel. After everything Sophie had done to Annabel since the beginning of the year, why would I assume any different of the girl that had been by her side the whole time. I decided I was going to go over there and break things up if they got nasty, but from the looks of it, Emily was being civil. I could see her talking but I couldn't hear what she was saying, but the look on her face seemed sorrowful. I felt weird watching this interaction, but I told myself I was doing this for Annabel, and besides I had been here long before Emily had. Annabel hadn't said a word the whole time, even when Emily handed her a small white paper. And then Emily was gone. Annabel sat there motionless, paper in her hand. She stared at it for a moment or two and then she dropped it. And that's when it started. Annabel was crying, but not just crying. She was sobbing, and I could hear her choking as she tried to catch a breath. The sobs were loud and kind of scary, and her shoulders were shaking violently.

I felt all the anger I had been holding onto dissipate. My heart felt like someone had just grabbed hold of if real tight. She now had her palms pressed tightly to her eyes as if she was trying to block something, everything out, her whole body now shaking from the sobs. The sobs reminded me so much of the night I walked into the dimly lit living room and saw my mother crying. It was right after the divorce had been finalized and my dad was gone, and while I know she was relieved to be rid of him, it didn't stop her from letting out the most broken sobs I've ever heard. Until now. Until Annabel.

And like my mother I could tell Annabel was trying to quiet herself, in fear someone would discover her in the back corner of the school library. But unlike the time with my mother, where I turned around and went back to bed, deciding that it was a private matter, I approached Annabel. Annabel had begun trying to compose herself by the time I reached her, wiping her tears with her hoodie sleeves. When I got to her table she was reaching down to pick up the card she had dropped, but I beat her to it. Our hands touched briefly, and it was over not a second later. She jerked away quickly, her body going rigid. I picked up the card anyway and handed it to her. That's when she finally realized it was me.

"Owen," she said softly, her body relaxing. She said my name like it was a breath of fresh air and god, was it nice to hear her voice.

"Hey Annabel," I whispered back, feeling as if I spoke any louder that I would shatter this moment, and Annabel would be gone from my life yet again. She gave me a soft smile.

"I was just here to finish a paper..-" she trailed off. Lie.

"I saw what happened," I admit to her. I mentally slap myself as her cheeks turn a pink color and I scratch the back of my head awkwardly, getting the overwhelming feeling of déjà vu.

"Just like when this all started, you always see me at my worst Owen Armstrong," she says to me, obviously feeling the same way. I wanted to tell her that even at her worst she's still the most beautiful girl I've ever seen, but I didn't, not yet anyway.

"Are you okay?" I ask tentatively.

"I don't know," she answers slowly. And I can tell that this is the first time in a long time, she's being completely honest with not only me, but herself.

"Annabel," I whisper, not knowing what else to say, all I knew is that I couldn't stand seeing her like this.

"Owen," she choked out, and I watched as she looked up at me. Her gorgeous blue eyes peering deeply into my own and at first that's all I saw, Annabel's pure perfection. But the longer I looked at her, the more I noticed, that while she is still the most stunning girl I've ever seen, even now, I could see she was far from okay. It wouldn't have taken a brain surgeon to tell you this though. Her eyes were encased by deep purple circles, as if she hadn't slept well in days. I could see specks of black on her cheeks, where some of her mascara had flaked off while she was crying. Her hair was unkempt, and her skin looked a little paler than usual, and it was obvious that chewing on her bottom lip had become a habit of hers seeing how raw it was. And when I looked into her eyes, really looked into them I could tell something was deeply wrong. A brain surgeon might not have been able to see that though, because unlike many people I knew Annabel, and that was something I took quite a lot of pride in.

Before this, before seeing her and hearing her voice again, I might've felt some sort of sick satisfaction if someone told me her absence from my life was affecting her just as much as it was me. I mean I'm only human and she was the one who left me, not the other way around. But now looking at her, like this, broken and afraid, it felt like I had just been sucker punched in the gut. A punch so hard it made me lose my breath and I was trying hard to just catch another. But it hurt, man did it hurt. Who would've guessed looking at Annabel could have made breathing hurt.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and I felt my arms wrapping around her. I didn't even realize I was doing it until she was there against my chest, small and warm and still slightly shaking. I could feel her head leaning on me and I was finally able to take a deep breath without it feeling like I was being stabbed. I hushed her as I ran my hand down her hair. I was trying to be soothing but I wasn't really sure what to do in these situations.

"I'm trying to make you feel better, but God I do not know what the hell I am doing," I admitted to her, silently thanking whoever that her head was tucked into my chest, so she couldn't see the blood rushing to my cheeks. I heard a small laugh and felt her warm breath on me.

"I missed you," she whispered. I felt my throat tighten.

"You're not the only one," I whispered back. Annabel pulled away from me for a moment and I immediately missed her warmth and the smell of her lavender shampoo. Her eyes were soft, but her face was determined.

"I can explain," she said, "I can explain about Bendo and the day in the car and everything after, if you'd just let me," she tells me. I nod my head, not sure if I could find my voice in my throat right now.

"Owen don't think or judge. Just listen," she said, cutting me off. I nod again, doing just that.


End file.
